Eric and the Windmill Expedition
by C3-69
Summary: As my ELA this semester sucked me dry of all creativity, my friend Eric asked me to write what I call a 'FriendFic' using the two objects as a windmill and a Dutch man. My friend is physically crippled, which will help you to understand the plot. Rated M for Mature


Eric and the Windmill Expedition  
A Friend-Fic. By C3-69

Eric wasn't quite sure what to make of the ancient windmill that loomed over him. He had always felt small- his deformed and crippled body made him appear smaller and less capable than what he truly was- but being compared to the mighty building was like nothing he had ever seen before. Eric wanted to step back to take in its enormity, but he was afraid he would stumble and fall. He had foolishly wandered away from the orgy his drunken parents had engaged in, and now only his crutches- which his younger sister had adorned earlier with flowers- stood between him and a tip over.

The windmill was made of grey stone that seemed to have stood for hundreds of years, and the fans, each one of them fifteen feet long and a tan-ish brown color, moved at an even, uniformed pace. Something about it turned Eric on, even though he couldn't understand why. He began to wobble towards the mighty door.

After two long hours- the door to the windmill was less than fifty steps away- Eric approached the mighty door and found it was slightly ajar. Eric had been raised to be proper and use manners. His parents were hypocrite, for they were probably using manners right about now at the old-persons Asian orgy, but Eric knocked nonetheless.

Suddenly a man with blonde hair, blue eyes, a crooked smile and a square jaw appeared in the doorway. "Yoo-hoo!" the man said gleefully. He looked Eric over once, and then his hand extended and grasped Eric in his private place.

"What the-" Eric started to say, but his words cut off as he realized that he had grown hard at the sudden touch.

"Sorry!" said the Dutch man. "I was just sayin' 'ello!" He stepped aside before Eric could think of a response and before he could reach out and return the favor. "Come in! Come in!" The Dutch man urged, and watched Eric curiously and wildly excitedly. "What do they call ya?"

"Eric." Eric answered, taking another step. His crutches and heavy feet thumped dully against the stone floor. "And yourself?"

"Me mama called me Strudel." He said, accent rolling. Eric chuckled, for he found the name both humorous and fitting. "Tea?" Strudel officered. Eric made his way over to a chair next to the kitchen and across from the bed (it was a very small room) and sat down, laying his crutches down by his side and he accepted. The tea tasted more like burnt coffee, but Eric was too preoccupied with Strudel's "buns of steel" to notice.

"I could cure ya, ya know." Strudel said suddenly, his voice soft and gentle, shaking Eric from his horny trance.

"I'm sorry, what?" Eric said, certain he had misheard the Dutch man, and placed the tea aside.

"Your legs." Strudel said. "I can make you walk again. You'll be a real boy." (yes, Pinocchio.)

Eric was flabbergasted, and it was a few minutes before he found his voice. "How?" He asked weakly, his hope betraying him.

Strudel walked up to Eric and bent down low, bringing his face towards his. "Haven't you heard?" Strudel asked. "A Dutch man can heal a cripple... with his sperm."

Eric's eyes widened, but he groaned with pleasure as Strudel started nibbling on his ear. Eric felt his body convulse as he tipped his head back, and Eric's fat grubby lips brushed against the soft ones that belonged to the boy who might give him back his legs. Strudel was strong but not forceful, gentle and passionate by not weak.

Strudel planted himself firmly on Eric's lap, two layers of clothes still between their rapidly hardening skin, and he started to tear Eric's shirt off with his strong and capable hands. Eric was already horny, but he was on the verge of climaxing far too early when he realized that Strudel's skin smelt of tulips and his breathe reminiscent of caramel.

Eric's grubby hands raked through Strudel's long, blonde hair as the Dutch man's tongue fondled Eric's nipples, and then slowly moved downwards before releasing Eric's Asian-sized lump.

Strudel grasped it firmly for a moment, making Eric moan in pleasure, before he stood up and pulled down his own pants to reveal 8 inches of erection. Strudel then picked Eric up in the same fashion that a parent would carry a sleeping child, and then threw him roughly down on the bed at the other side of the incredibly tiny room. Eric didn't even have a chance to balance or adjust himself, for Strudel was behind him suddenly, hands grasping Eric's waist and, without hesitation, he thrust himself into the cripple.

Eric yowled in shock, pain and pleasure that were suddenly being applied to his rear.

"First time?" Strudel asked innocently, and Eric nodded. "I'll be gentle." He promised.

Strudel started humping rhythmatically, in perfect sync with the turning fans of the windmill. Eric slowed his breathing and closed his eyes, enjoying the harsh intake of Strudel's breathing and the sensation of Strudel's penis moving in and out of him.

Eric felt himself cum and he convulsed in erotic pleasure, then did so again a moment later when Strudel gasped and emptied himself into Eric. Strudel exclaimed "Yoo-hoo!" and rolled over, panting. His chest rose up and down steadily and he looked pleased.

Eric felt the cum start to leak out of his asshole, but he was too embarrassed to ask if that was normal. "That was..." Eric started to say.

"...magical." Strudel finished, turning his blue eyes to look at the boy who was covered in just as much sweat and sperm as he was, and grinned. Then Strudel noticed the cum slowly leaking away. "Oops. Don't let that get away from ya." Strudel leaned forward and used his tongue as a spoon to pick up the sperm, then shoved his tongue down Eric's throat to rid himself of the excess. Eric thought that his cum was a tad too salty for his taste, but he swallowed it down eagerly nonetheless.

Strudel got up and walked over to the tea that had long since grown cold, his now limp penis hanging uselessly between his legs. He glanced over his shoulder at Eric and chuckled. "You can get up." Strudel said. "Come on. Stand up." He encouraged.

Eric shifted his weight so he was sitting up, and then he closed his eyes, both savoring and ending the moment. Then he tried to stand up. Eric's feet touched the floor and then-

BOOM!

-Five elderly people, all of whom had been at the same elderly Asian orgy that Eric's parents had attended, had rented a plane. In their drunken stupor they dropped a bomb on a windmill and watched from the sky laughing manically at the sight below. From the field where the orgy had taken place, Eric's parents huddled together in their nakedness. Both chugged down another drink and turned to watch what they assumed to be fireworks while they experimented among the grass, dirt and other elderly Asians who were just beginning to learn the proper use of a tongue.


End file.
